Doomed
by Kat Lee formerly Pirate Turner
Summary: The most heroic acts are often the sacrifices we make for those we love. The Man of Steel knows that pain all too well. Slash.


Title: "Doomed"  
Author: Pirate Turner  
Rating: R  
Summary: The most heroic acts are often the sacrifices we make for those we love. The Man of Steel knows that pain all too well.  
Disclaimer: Clark Kent, Lex Luthor, Martha Kent, and Smallville are © & TM DC comics, not the author. Chloe Sullivan is © & TM her respective owner, who is also not the story's author. Everything else is © & TM Pirate Turner. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction.  
Author's Note: This one's been waiting since May!

He kept as firm a grip on the object as his shaking, thin hand could manage. He was shaking all over now, and he knew it wouldn't be much longer. He tried not to think of how his mother would feel when she found him. He tried not to think about how his friends would feel when they learned, how Chloe, especially, would feel for she'd know. She was too smart to not discover the truth. She'd look into it; she'd find it. Heck, he realized, he probably wouldn't even have the strength to throw the stone away from him when he was done. In fact, he knew he wouldn't. His mother would find him like this, with marks, scratches, and his own blood all over his half-naked body and his face marred with the stains of tear drops that refused to stop falling. She'd know what he had done, and she'd wonder where she'd gone wrong.

"It's not your fault, Mom," he whispered, never realizing he said the words out loud. "It's not your fault. Never yours. Guess it's mine. Mine for not being strong enough . . . " His words erupted into a fit of coughing, and he spat blood onto the straw strewn beneath him.

How would he feel, Clark wondered, when he heard the news? Would he care at all? Would he shed one single tear, or would he simply be happy that the man he viewed as competition, but could never really be competition, was gone and Lana was his?

He didn't care about Lana. He hadn't for years, though he'd tried to make himself love her and had acted the part for far too long. Any one who wanted the little bitch could have her. Any one except his beloved. It wasn't that he didn't want him to have Lana, not in the sense he thought at least. It was that he wanted him to have him and wanted to have him himself. He ached to have Lex, not for his money nor for his power nor for his protection. He ached, he burned, he yearned to have Lex because he loved him.

He was never going to love him, however. His heart belonged to the very bitch he'd claimed to love. He remembered going to her, telling her he loved her, begging her not to marry Lex but to marry him, playing the part that was expected of him to the hilt. Every time he'd ever risked his life to rescue hers whisked through his mind. Why hadn't he just let her die? Then, at least, maybe, Lex's heart would not be possessed by another.

But who was he trying to kid? Lex would never love him. He wasn't like him and would be disgusted by his type. He could only ever love a woman, and Clark was doomed to only ever be a man. He was doomed to live without his love, to see him but never be able to touch him the way he ached to. He was tired of being doomed. He was sick of being alone, even in a crowd of people, and hurting so terribly that he didn't even want to breathe.

Soon, however, soon, that pain would be over. He would cease to feel and to hurt. He would leave behind a world of people who either didn't really care or simply didn't understand. He would never again hurt.

"Clark!" His mother's distressed cry startled him so that he dropped the piece of kryptonite he had been running over his own skin and using to cut through his own flesh. "Clark, where are you?"

He shouldn't answer her, he thought, letting his eyes drift shut. He should just lay here and let the final minutes take their toll. She wouldn't find him in time, he assured himself. But her voice . . . She sounded so panicked, so afraid . . . and his father was no longer there to take care of her. He was gone, dead because he'd failed him . . . Failed him, like he failed so many, including himself.

"Clark, sweetheart, where are you? We need you!"

We? his dazed mind wondered. Who was we?

"Clark, something terrible's happened! Where . . . ?" Chloe's voice cut off in a panicked gasp. He heard her footsteps as they slapped across the floor of the barn. She fell on her knees beside him, grabbing the kryptonite and throwing it before calling his mother's name. "He's over here!"

"Clark, what happened?!" He didn't answer her. He laid still, hoping it would be too late, but he could already feel his body beginning to heal itself. "Did Lex do this?"

"No! I . . . " His words were lost in his mother's scream, and he knew, in that moment, that he was indeed doomed for he would continue. He was doomed to wait for relief from the pain that consumed his heart and soul for he would continue until his mother and best friend were safe, and then he would let, encourage even, sweet oblivion take him forever more.

**The End**


End file.
